Curiouser and Curiouser
by anheloanima
Summary: This is not a parody on the book series "Harry Potter." I am simply poking good fun at the cliche fanfic writers.
1. Innocuous Begninnings

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HERMIONE, DOBBY, THE WORLD OF HARRY POTTER OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT JK ROWLING HAS WRITTEN CONNECTED WITH THESE.   
  
I AM SIMPLY A STRUGGLING WRITER *sniffs* TRYING TO ACHIEVE INDIVIDUALITY ...  
  
Hermione shouldered her bookbag, it sure was nice to be back at Hogwarts, she thought as she reached the Great Hall for breakfast. She smiled at Harry as she seated herself at the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Where's Ron?"  
  
Harry shrugged as he swallowed a particularly large spoonful of oatmeal. "Dunno. Quidditch practice just ended, haven't seen him. He should be here soon..." Harry trailed off as Ron conveniently entered the Great Hall, looking annoyed.  
  
"Bloody house elves," Ron said a little too loudly as he sat down on the other side of Harry.   
  
"RON!"  
  
Ron looked up sharply at the reprimand, suddenly seeming to be aware of his surroundings ... and of his mistake. He looked guiltily over at Hermione.   
  
"Sorry Hermione, but they really did it this time. They-" Ron appeared to realize, judging from the look on Hermione's face, that his story had better be good. Really good. He gulped.  
  
"Well, they DID," he protested at the look on Hermione's face. "I mean, Hermione, you can't say that this isn't their fault-"  
  
"Ron," Harry interrupted, "what DID the house elves do?"  
  
Ron blinked. "Oh, right, well, they cleaned our dorms last night and they did something with my potions homework. I can't find it!" Hermione was now giving Ron a look that she reserved specifically for when she thought either Harry or Ron was doing something particularly idiotic. Taking in the look on Hermione's face once more, Ron attempted to redeem himself.  
  
"TWO rolls of parchment, Hermione! Two rolls! And now they're gone!" He was gesturing empathetically, trying to make his story seem more dramatic. "I left them out in the common room, where I was working on them, when I finished. I came down this morning and they weren't there! Honestly, Hermione, it had to've been the house elves!"  
  
"I can't believe you," Hermione said in relative disgust. "You're blaming your own carelessness on the house elves. Look at all of the things they do for you, but when you lose your homework, though no fault of theirs, you immediately blame it on the them. You have no appreciation of their hard work."  
  
"But Hermione," Ron whined pleadingly, "it isn't THERE!" He paused and then muttered under his breath, "Snape's gonna kill me."  
  
Harry, who heard this, laughed silently as he changed the subject.  
  
"Have you seen the creatures Hagrid's got for our lesson today?"  
  
"No, I haven't," Hermione said slowly, shifting her attention to Harry, "what are they?"  
  
The rest of the morning continued without much incident. Ron's homework was found stacked neatly in the corner of the common room underneath a pile of spell-books and Neville's toad, much to Ron's relief and disgruntlement and to Hermione's smug satisfaction.  
  
In Charms, they learned a sparkle spell, and as they left the classroom, Hermione thought that Harry's nose was a bit too shiny, but, no matter, the effect of Ron's mishap had faded by lunch.  
  
Care of Magical Creatures, their last class that day, was slightly less dull than usual. Hagrid had decided to complicate the lesson by allowing them to watch biting flubberworms instead of regular ones for a change, and, as much as they loved Hagrid, Ron couldn't help complaining about the sore finger he was nursing as they were leaving.  
  
"I didn't even know these things could HAVE teeth," he moaned, rubbing his now-reddish index finger.  
  
Hermione shrugged as the threesome entered the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"Well," she said after a moment, "I'd better get up to my dormitory, Crookshanks'll be hungry. I didn't have time to feed him this morning and he's bound to start yowling about it soon as he knows I'm here." With this, Hermione started up the staircase, bookbag over one arm. She stretched tiredly, and realized that there wasn't any way she would be coming back down for the rest of the evening.  
  
"Goodnight," she called over her shoulder, disappearing up the stairs and into her dorm. 


	2. The Greatest Crime

SAME DISCLAIMER AND SUCH AS THE FIRST CHAPTER .  
  
AN: thanks to my one reviewer . . . sorry it wasn't long enough, hope this helps!  
  
True to her prediction, Hermione heard Crookshanks before she saw him. Although she did not lock him in her dormitory, Crookshanks preferred to stay there in the evenings when the common room was full. The window she nearly always left open for him, unless Pavarti complained of the chill. The instant she opened the door, he was weaving insistently around her legs. Hermione laughed and dropped her bag by her bed.  
  
"Okay, okay you crazy cat, I'll feed you! Did you think I wouldn't?"  
  
Crookshanks did not seem to believe her. He continued his pattern, rubbing and meowing. This hindered Hermione's walk to her trunk, as she continually had to dodge him.  
  
"You know, it would be much faster if you would just leave me alone so I could GET to your food." Crookshanks stopped at this and backed away, sitting primly by his dish and watching her intently. His noisemaking, however, did not cease.  
  
After filling the heavy ceramic dish, and thus silencing Crookshanks, Hermione sat wearily on her four-poster bed for a moment and stared into empty space. After a moment, she rose again and retrieved her books. Sitting at her desk, she opened her Arithmancy book and began working problems in her neat script on a sheet of parchment. Hermione didn't know why she was so tired. It was unusual. She decided that she must have just had a more tiring day than she'd realized.  
  
She had hardly worked her way through the fifth problem when she heard Crookshanks hissing. This scared her. The last time she had heard him hiss was when he was confronted with Wormtail, the amaigus traitor that had hidden under the guise of Ron's rat for years. He had made a better rat than a human.  
  
Turning around, Hermione saw Crookshanks, fur on end, spitting at the air above her bed. No, that couldn't be right.  
  
"Who's there?" Hermione questioned uncertainly. There was no response and she tried once more. "Hello?" This time Hermione was rewarded with a high- pitched squeak that was definitely not Crookshanks. Maybe it was an evil spirit.  
  
"Who are you? Show yourself!" she demanded in the direction that Crookshanks was staring.  
  
Whatever it was squeaked again and Hermione began to walk slowly towards the bed. Crookshanks, however, reached it faster. He sprang up into the empty space and locked his claws onto the air. Hermione could see now, however, that it was definitely not just air.  
  
"Help!" it cried as it began to flicker into view.  
  
Hermione recognized the appearing form immediately. "DOBBY!"  
  
Dobby was struggling with Crookshanks, who now had him pinned to the bed. "Crookshanks NO!" she cried, racing to pull the cat off of his prey. Prying Crookshanks from Dobby turned out to be no mean feat. Every time she managed to get one paw unhooked and began to work on the next one the unfastened paw refastened itself. It didn't help that Dobby was writhing and squealing in terror at being caught by a cat as large as himself.  
  
"Dobby, why don't you just transport yourself somewhere else?!" she puffed between breaths as she wrestled with the cat, remembering Harry's tales of the way the elf blinked away.  
  
"C-c-can't! It would be too easy!"  
  
"Crookshanks you should be ashamed of yourself!" she said, managing to pull the cat's two front paws off of Dobby and hold them in the air. The cat ceased its struggling, Dobby did not. She lifted the cat fully, unhooking his back feet with relative ease now and dropping him roughly on the floor. Turning her attention to Dobby, she saw that the house-elf was huddled on her bed, shaking. Every second or so he would briefly flash away into invisibility, only to return a moment later looking as terrified as ever.  
  
"Dobby, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Danger. Danger and Dobby couldn't tell Master Potter. No, he mustn't know, he wouldn't believe Dobby."  
  
"What danger, Dobby, what is wrong?" Hermione asked, somewhat relieved. Whatever it was, it couldn't kill Harry, he was the main character, after all. At least he hadn't come to tell her that she had gotten an A-. Heaven forbid.  
  
Dobby opened his flickering mouth to speak and then his green eyes widened even more, an action Hermione would not have thought possible. He disappeared for longer now, obviously trying to accomplish something. Then Hermione heard a faint pop and an even fainter whisper of a word. "Malfoy." The door to the dormitory opened at that moment and Lavender entered, smiling.  
  
"Hermione?" she asked, her smile fading slightly at the look on Hermione's face. "What happened? Is something wrong?" Hermione recovered quickly and looked up at Lavender.  
  
"No, nothing's wrong. Just thinking, that's all."  
  
Lavender looked at her disbelievingly. "No you weren't. Something's wrong, I can tell."  
  
Hermione bit her lip; Lavender would never believe what had just happened even if Hermione considered telling her. She couldn't tell Lavender because it would be more fun for the author if she made up some random reason as to why the look on her face was there. She knew that Lavender would continue pressing her until she said something, so she said the first thing that came to mind.  
  
"I'm in love with Ron." 


	3. Terrific Intrigue

SAME DISCLAIMER AND ALL THAT ROT  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
WHAT did she just say? Lavender looked incredulous.  
  
"Really?" She said, jaw gaping, then for lack of anything else to say she repeated herself lamely, " . . . uh . . . really?"  
  
"No!" Hermione said quickly. "No, I didn't mean to say that, I meant . . . I mean . . . uh . . ."  
  
"You meant what?"  
  
Hermione was at a loss. She couldn't tell Lavender about Dobby, she played it out in her head. You see, Lavender, there was this house-elf in here trying to tell me about this great danger that he couldn't tell anyone else. He left as soon as you came in. Yeah, right. What could she say?  
  
"Well . . . Harry-" at this she smacked her hand over her mouth. WHEN WOULD SHE LEARN? "I mean, you have to understand, Lavender, I'm tired. I didn't mean to say any of that stuff." Lavender looked at her disbelievingly. "I'm not in love with Ron . . . not at all. We're just friends, same with Harry. Really, Lavender, you have to believe me."  
  
"It's okay, Hermione," Lavender said soothingly. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "I won't tell Harry. I've read the fanfics, I know what happens."  
  
"What? Wait, no, Lavender you have to believe me! I don't know where that came from, I really don't!"  
  
"No, I understand now. Harry loves you but you love Ron, you don't want to hurt Harry's feelings. That's terrific intrigue, Hermione. I'll bet NOBODY has thought of it before. It's okay, I won't tell, I really won't."  
  
"But Lavender!"  
  
"Hermione, don't you trust me?" No. "I just came up here to grab my new necklace. I wanted to show it to Pavarti. I'll go now."  
  
Lavender left the room, but not without flashing a knowing smile at Hermione. Hermione felt like screaming. She wasn't in love with Ron, Harry didn't love her, at least not that way, and she didn't trust Lavender not to say anything. She blanched at the thought of the rumor reaching either Ron or Harry. Why had she said that? She had been desperate; she had needed something to explain the look on her face. But WHY couldn't she have said something else? Anything else. She could have said, "my dog died" or "my grandmother is sick" or "I got an A-". She could have said anything, ANYTHING and she had to go and say, "I'm in love with Ron."  
  
So why couldn't she just go tell him what happened? She could say, "Hey, guess what, the funniest thing happened to me. Dobby came in and he was acting really strange, he left and Lavender opened the door and saw the look on my face so I told her I was in love with you Ron." So why couldn't she say that? Because . . . because . . . because she just couldn't. Suddenly an unbidden thought occurred to her. Maybe she didn't want to tell Ron because she DID love him. At this she laughed, in love with Ron? Actually in love? Maybe SHE had been reading too many fanfics. Well, maybe Lavender wouldn't tell, she had promised. Lavender could keep her word, couldn't she? Maybe. No. As Dobby had said, that would be too easy.  
  
What was Dobby trying to say anyhow? When he was talking about danger? Not like it really mattered. Although it was getting tiresome, all of this, "Harry is in mortal danger." Wasn't Harry ALWAYS in mortal danger? As for knowing what she would do, that was easy. She would continue worrying for the rest of the night and accomplish nothing by it. Then she would be even MORE tired tomorrow. It sure is nice to be predictable, Hermione thought. 


	4. Be Afraid

The author finds it appropriate to note that this chapter was inspired by a friend's description of a particularly annoying RPG character (slight adjustments and exaggerations were made, of course, though the author finds it scary how close the resemblance still seems). Thank you to that character -to the author's understanding, this is probably the most useful thing you've done yet- we are all enjoying ourselves laughing at you. And, of course thank you to the author's friend, whom the author laughs at also for reasons not pertaining to this fanfic.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione's prediction came true, but not quite in the manner that she had envisioned. True she did not sleep the rest of the night, and, true, the night passed with an unusual amount of worry, but something much more pressing occupied her thoughts. She had just changed into her nightgown when the first sign came. Crookshanks, who had not yet recovered from the Dobby incident, was licking himself woundedly in the corner of the room. This, of course, is not actually the first sign, the author just put that sentence in here like that to amuse herself.  
  
The first sign, for real this time, was a knock on the dormitory door. From the way Crookshank's head popped up, (okay, so maybe that sentence was important afterall) Hermione should have known something was amiss, eh, something ELSE. But even though Hermione is very smart, in this fanfic she doesn't learn because the author likes it better that way. But back to the story. Hermione crossed the room and opened the door.  
  
At the threshold was a younger girl, perhaps a first year, but Hermione doubted it. The girl looked about nine, two years younger than a first year ought to be. As Hermione drew breath to speak, the girl interrupted her.  
  
"Hi! I'mthesuperhyperenergeticandannoyinglong-long-long-longlostyoungersisterofHarryPotter! Iknowmyexistancedoesn'tmakesensebutI'mhereanyway. I'mtheproductofsomeone'sclichenon-imaginativeimagination (the author would like to here note that the author also finds these "imaginations" scary and pathetic). Itwasn'tactuallyHarrywhodefeatedtheDarkLordallofthosetimesbutmecleverlydisguisedsothatnobodyknewIwasthere. IwouldberelatedtoRontoobutI'vedecidedthatitwouldbemorefuntofallinlovewithhiminstead. I'msupersmartandmymagicisamazinglystrongsoHogwortsadmittedmethreeyearstooyearlybecausetheywantedmeheresobadlybecauseI'msoamazing. Don'tyouthinkI'mamazing?" The girl said all of this in one breath.  
  
Hermione was positively speechless. She shouldn't have been, though. She should have seen it coming. Standing stupidly for a moment, staring at this girl who obviously expected Hermione to begin singing her praises any moment, Hermione only had the presence of mind to ask one question.  
  
"Uhh ... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name-"  
  
"Youdon'tknowmyname? Wellofcourse,sillyofme,Ihaven'ttoldyouyet! MynameisHarrietta.Isn'tthatabsolutelyfantastic?Icantellbythelookonyourfacethatyouthinksotoo. MaybeI'llbeinsomeofyourclassesbecauseI'msupersmartandthey'repromotingmetosixthyearclassesbecauseI'msoamazingthatthey'rehavingmeskipthefirstfiveyears! I'mGinny'sbestfriendandeveryoneintheentireschoolisalreadyfallinginlovewithme." Again, all in one breath. At this feat, Hermione could do naught but marvel.  
  
Perhaps a discription of Harrietta is appropriate at this point. Harietta looks exactly like Harry but she is a girl and her scar is more feminine looking. She is breathtakingly beautiful. The author feels that no more needs to be said on this subject.  
  
"Well ... Harrietta, um, what did you come up here for then?" Shock and fear did not fade with time, Hermione was discovering.  
  
Harrietta didn't seem to be able to believe that Hermione didn't know the purpose of her visit. "Why so you could see me of course! It would have been unkind of me not to come up and let you see me! I mean, my beauty and my impossibility of existance being so teriffic and all. I'm sure you're just dying with happiness at my-" Harrietta had not actually slowed her speech any, the author just likes to use word spacing to mess with the reader's mind.  
  
"Oh, okay," Hermione replied, cutting her off but unsure of what to say next. Harrietta, however, did not seem to notice Hermione's hesitation and went on talking.  
  
"I'm sure we'll be the best of best of best of friends! Your pretty kitty will like me better than you, of course, awful sorry about that but you'll like me so much that it won't matter. Can't worry about things that can't be helped, can we? We can study together and I can help you with your homework!"  
  
"Help me with my homework?" Hermione repeated blankly.  
  
"Of course! Nobody knows more than I do! I do say, you don't do your reputation much credit, Hermione, I assumed you were smarter than this. Of course, I always knew anyhow that you would pale in comparison next to me-"  
  
Hermione, who was finally beginning to come to her senses, cut her off again. "You know, Harrietta, I really can't wait to get to know you better but I'm awfully tired and-"  
  
"I see!" Harrietta replied instantly. "Of course your stamina is not nearly what mine is! Why once I saved the entire world using only one hand while I was on my deathbead." So why didn't she just die? "I'll leave at once so that you can get some rest. But if you want me to stay, on second thought, my singing voice is celestial and I could lull you to sleep with it if you like! Yes, yes, that's what I'll do!"  
  
It took Hermione several minutes of flattery and convincing to get Harrietta to leave without a bedtime song. In the course of the arguement, Harrietta had began singing in her gorgeous perfect (of course) soprano to demonstrate. The music was so beautiful that it brought tears to Hermione's eyes (of course). If it were not for Crookshank's yowling interruption bringing her back to her senses, Hermione might have reconsidered. Hermione argued on and at last she was alone again (if one doesn't count Crookshanks).  
  
So, as stated at the beginning of this chapter, Hermione didn't get any sleep that night. She wasn't worrying about Dobby. She wasn't worrying about Ron. She wasn't worrying about Harry. She was worrying about something scarier. Much scarier. 


	5. A Dream

A/N: The author is pretending that she remembered to put a disclaimer on chapter four. The author instructs her readers to do the same (one might notice that the author is also indulging herself in pretending that the author has readers). She apologizes to the few who bother to read this fanfic for the long delay in updating. So, basically, just look at the disclaimer on chapter one and apply it to all following chapters. Get it? Got it? Good. On with the "story."  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Hermione spent the whole night thinking. She would have much rather spent the night dreaming a terrible nightmare. That way, at least, she could have woken up and tried to convince herself that it was "all just a dream."  
  
As it was, she could not pry her mind from the thought of Harrieta. Thoughts of the ill-timed (but is there any way it could have been well- timed?) meeting of Harrieta, Dobby's message, and her conversation with Lavender all jostled around in her head, strangling one another for room in her consciousness and generally giving Hermione no rest.  
  
On top of it all, she was beginning to have strange love fantasies about herself and Draco Malfoy. Was there NO peace?? Finally she decided that she needed food to settle her stomach and, after dressing, made her way toward the Great Hall for breakfast.  
  
The Great Hall would be fairly empty, after all, it was 6:00 in the morning, Hermione peered into the room and, oh God, Harrietta was sitting at the Gryffindor table enjoying an early breakfast (MUST she be so virtuous as to be a natural early riser as well?).  
  
At risk of being spotted, Hermione spun around and fled the vicinity. So much for breakfast.  
  
Now, where could she go that Harrietta wouldn't think to go? Common room? Yeah, right. Library? Heck no. The grounds? No. With Hermione's luck, Harrietta was an amazing flier, already exempt from the first-year-no- broomstick rule as well. Hermione wasn't about to chance Harrietta coming out to practice (a.k.a. "show off") her flying technique. Not even Hagrid's hut was sounding safe. Was there anywhere Hermione could go?  
  
After thinking for a moment, Hermione had her first lucky break. She was struck with an idea that sounded fairly foolproof. Traversing the corridors and staircases briskly, Hermione soon reached her destination.  
  
Having known the location of the kitchens since fourth year, Hermione had gone there several times for various reasons, a few of them being to ease the seemingly ever-present hunger pangs of Ron's and Harry's stomachs. The house elves were unnervingly eager to serve her slightest wish, and, despite her repulsion at their "slavery", Hermione sometimes took comfort in the routine. She certainly did now.  
  
There were bonuses to coming here too. First of all, she had solved her hunger problems; second of all, she knew the house elves would hide her if she asked them. Knowing that Harrietta had just eaten, Hermione decided that she make do with the assumption that the girl would not journey to the kitchen if she already had a full stomach.  
  
Taking precautions had never hurt anyone, though. After politely asking the elves if there was any way that she could be alerted (and hidden) if anyone stopped in front of the painting, and being answered with an eager all-you-have-to-do-is-ask answer, Hermione allowed herself to relax just slightly.  
  
Dobby wasn't in the kitchens and Hermione wondered where he was. Even though Harry was only in potential life-threatening danger, she was still curious about the cause of such a disturbance. She contemplated these things as she allowed herself to unwind in the safety of the kitchens.  
  
Reluctant to leave, Hermione lingered for almost an hour after she had finished eating, staring into space and thinking, too distracted even to discuss House-Elf liberation with the victims. After receiving numerous uncertain side glances from the elves, and tired of turning down all of their attempts at hospitality, she rose and left the room.  
  
It was now going on seven thirty. Classes did not start for another hour and Hermione wasn't sure what to do with this extra time. Feeling rather lost without the assured safety of the library, she decided to return to the Great Hall not to eat, but to check for Ron and Harry.  
  
Walking down the corridors for what seemed like the millionth time that morning, she directed herself towards her destination (what a concept). Behind a half-open door (the Charms classroom, to be precise), she heard a low groan. For once (this truly was an unusual two days for Hermione) curiosity won over common sense and, as she passed by, she looked inside.  
  
Inside, heads huddled together, were Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. The groan had come from Lee Jordan. He followed it up with a more intelligible complaint.  
  
"Do we hafta' use dungbombs? You'd think, after all the times we've snuck into Zonkos the fanfic authors would be able to think of something a little more creative."  
  
"Tradition IS tradition," reasoned George. "I think Draco'll be truly evil before they think of something better."  
  
"You mean to say he still falls in love with Hermione?" Lee Jordan sounded awed. "Wow."  
  
At this, Hermione started and nearly fell into the door. Luck was with her as the author conveniently wishes to continue the dialogue.  
  
"You're so slow, Lee. Of COURSE he does, it's the most unlikely and unreasonable thing to occur, so it happens."  
  
"So anyway," Lee continued, "where should we stick the dungbombs?"  
  
"Filch."  
  
"Oh, right, should've known that."  
  
*~*~*~* (A/N: time for a DREAM -you will note the random placing-! Heh heh . you KNEW it was coming SOMETIME! You will have to forgive the lack of italics- I don't know how to put them in.)  
  
*Deep gray competed with warm brown. The two colors swirled and fought until perfect green arrived. Then, like a child to the piper, brown sauntered off, leaving just enough to make a worthy love triangle.  
  
Bunnies hopped and ate rice . . . wait . . . n/m.  
  
She was torn over things that only niggled at the back of her brain. Her heart, her head, was splitting into millions of pieces over a problem she couldn't name. Tears of fire and ice were running rivulets down her cheeks. She couldn't move.  
  
All of a sudden she was being attacked by a million needles. It was Crookshanks, he was attacking her the way he attacked Dobby. This is what she got, she supposed, for forgetting to feed him.  
  
Hermione was flying . . . flying . . . falling. She was screaming without a voice, hopelessly . . . helplessly . . . and then it stopped. She felt safe, warm. Someone was holding her, someone was kissing her and it was perfect. The feelings shooting through her were indescribable. But what color were his eyes?* 


End file.
